


Your Quietest Feeling

by brianathebard



Category: 2PM (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4849958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brianathebard/pseuds/brianathebard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can never fully start your life over, but they try their best in the valleys of Jeongseon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Quietest Feeling

“Welcome to Jeongseon. We ask all passengers to kindly step off the bus for a 15 minute break. Refreshments are available for purchase inside. If this is your final destination, please retrieve all personal belongings before stepping off. Checked luggage will be available for pick up by your driver. Thank you for riding Odsay bus lines, and we wish you a pleasant rest of your journey.”

The female voice that forced benevolence abruptly stopped. Bated, yet steady and rhythmic rain fell as headlights reflected off the puddles being made in the road. The bus pulled up to the curb and a streetlight lit up the area in front of a small station, a couple roofed benches in front of it. Compressed air was released as the front of the bus knelt down to the road. The rough-looking bus driver opened the door and stepped out, patting the pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket. A small group of nameless people got off the bus along with a young man named Kim Minjun, who shuffled off last. He pulled the hood of the black sweatshirt over his buzzed hair and slung a backpack (littered with random, meaningless badges and held together by safety pins and hope) over his shoulder. The driver opened a door to the undercarriage of the bus and pulled out Minjun's large canvas military-style duffle bag that contained all of his worldly possessions. Minjun moved to take the bag from him, but the driver ignored him and promptly set the bag on the wet sidewalk to close the cargo door.

The youth, just shy of 22 years, glared daggers at the back of the driver's head. Frustration made wrinkles on Minjun's forehead and caused his jaw to tighten up, until the voice of a sergeant in his head barked, "Choose your battles!" He huffed his displeasure instead as he picked the bag up from the puddle.

He glanced around for a car, or just someone waiting for him, but there were no sight nor sound of anybody with that description. The rain hit the hood of his sweatshirt. The bag hit the back of his legs every other step making a wet spot on the back of his jeans. He reached one of the roofed benches, he set his bag and backpack on one side of the bench, not yet sitting down himself (who can after a 4 hour drive) and pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his backpack. He shook out one of the three left in the package, set the filter between his dark lips, and carefully tucked the last precious two back in. It took a couple tries to snap a flame into the lighter, so he made quick work of lighting the cigarette. He took a practiced breath from the filter, and let the taste linger in his mouth. I'll have to ration myself until I get paid, then I'll get some of the expensive ones, he decided. It was his reward for not cussing the bus driver out.

Still standing, he idly read the graffiti carved into the bench as he savored his cigarette. Random curse words, a penis ejaculating (Why do you never see vaginas drawn on things?) "Kwon was here," a couple random dates that went back to October, 2007 (he shut out the emptiness that tried to invade his heart,) and OK "heart" JK. He had a vague thought about how this small contribution of graffiti will likely last longer than OK and JK's relationship, wherever they are. He wished them well, anyway, and flicked off the ashes.

Minjun moved his military bag and sat down on the bench with the tobacco hanging off his lips. The guy who was supposed to be picking him up should have been here since the bus was a little late getting in, but he wasn't too worried about it. It wouldn't be the first time he'd slept on a bench.

He knew this was shady as hell. His suspicion started when he was sitting in the internet cafe in Daegu the day after he was discharged from mandatory army service. He received a reply from Seojin's Organics no more than 5 minutes after he sent his resume of meaningless army "achievements" to every opening on the employment listings page. It offered a bus ticket to the middle of nowhere and _When can you leave??_ It ranked of desperation, but the general job description of "farming duties" seemed easy enough to do. Maybe he'd stop thinking so much, keep up the army muscle - plus, it provided housing and food with a decent (cash) wage. He'd get out of the sad school dorms and he'd start his new life there. Maybe he'd marry some plain, unassuming girl who didn't expect much from him and focus on being a good son-in-law, like he was supposed to do. Maybe he'd turn "normal" again. As normal as he could be. Blend into a new community that didn't know his former self.

But this is Minjun. As much as he can put up a persona to hide behind, it's a thin veil and he can just as easily tear everything down. In the end, he's got nothing to lose. There's nothing to gamble.

The door to the station opened and the same, nameless people started filing out back to the bus, some older ladies did a few stretches before climbing up the bus stairs. Minjun took in another inhale from his cigarette as he watched the bus stand back up and roll away, passengers already half asleep as their breaths fogged up the windows they leaned against.

The chill of the mid April rain started getting to him now, and he pulled at the drawstring of his hood. He listened to the tap of the rain on the corrugated roof, the splash of the water falling from the gutter in a triplet pattern. He tapped his foot along to the rhythm it made, until the tempo crescendoed, climaxed, slowed, and faded. The neverending composition continued with the piano drizzle in the air.

Where was this guy? He wished he bucked up and got a cheap phone before getting here, and just as he stubbed the end of his cigarette with the toe of his shoe to see if there was a payphone around, the station lights turned off and the door to the station opened up when he heard the voices of two young men.

"Another no show, Seojin's gonna be pissed." The voice had a soft rumble with a singalong inflection, and the sound of a lock clicking into place could be heard.

A lower yet slightly more whining voice replied, "Isn't that the fourth one this month? What kind of crappy job site is he picking these guys from?" His tone turned softer. "As much as I want to come over tonight, I really can't help you out tomorrow. I've gotta cover for Ahn...." the voice trailed off.

Minjun searched the darkness for their silhouettes outside of the cone of light the streetlight above provided. There was a boy about his height in a uniform, and Minjun wasn't sure if the look on his face was aimed towards him or if that's just how he looked like all the time. He was cute despite the resting bitch face, and the light dyed hair suited him.

Then his eyes gravitated to Taecyeon.

Minjun often wondered why he didn't feel more intimidated meeting Taecyeon. This was exactly the kind of guy he avoided in the army - handsome, tall, muscles clearly defined. They either didn't know their own strength or were well aware and didn't care. Their jokes were bad, their conversation was dull. They were ignorant to empathy because they had gotten by in life on their good looks and physiques. Maybe more of them were like Taec and he didn't notice it. But he noticed Taecyeon.

Maybe it was his gait - hands in pockets, posture slightly hunched. It wasn't like he was walking directly towards him, it was like he was just walking where he was supposed to go. Maybe it was the fact that he was wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt, something most people wear as pajamas. Maybe it was his wrinkly, kind eyes that searched for his and ignited when he found them. Maybe it was the goofy smile on his face that set him at ease, even though Minjun didn't realize he was so nervous in the first place.

Whatever it was, maybe Minjun shouldn't have smiled back.


End file.
